My next project is a photo and opinions blog entitled, Nicko’s Big Picture.  For more information on this site, just follow the link.

Sincerely,
Nicko Margolies

In the morning, while we walked through the square near the Duomo, we heard chanting in the distance. We stuck around and soon got enveloped by a huge protest. It was unclear what they were protesting but there were more smiles than I was expecting. The protesters seemed to enjoy making a bunch of noise and dancing about while the police took the opportunity to stroll around them.

Rome was a change of pace. Lisbon and Barcelona were vacations with tourist sights, Rome was a pressure cooker of tourism. Ain and I flew to Rome and met up with Dave, who knew an elderly Italian couple that we were able to stay with. From the success and hospitality of these people, it made me realize that staying with family friends is the best way to map out a trip. We were picked up at the airport, whisked off to their house outside of the city and greeted with a meal and a comfortable basement. There was a language barrier between us and the father, Salvatore, but his eccentric hand motions and youthful demeanor made all communication easy (and often accompanied by smiles, uproarious laughter and the occasional made-up Italian exclamation). The mother, Gulia (pronounced, Julia), was a phenomenal cook who whipped up 3-4 course meals while we would be hastily ushered into the basement as it seemed no men were allowed in the kitchen. She used to be an English teacher and drilled Dave on updates with every member of his family.

In the morning Salvatore drove us to the train station and taught us that the driving regulations in Italy required everyone to drive like they own a Ferrari even though nobody does. We flossed and flew all over the country side and bought 40 minute transit passes for 1 euro, something that we would have clearly fumbled with ourselves.

We hopped off the train some time later and followed our line of sight to St. Peter’s Basilica. The main square was full of folding chairs and we trailed a horde of tourists to the Vatican museum. Most efforts to enter a museum can only be compared to cattle ranching through a few select entrances. The force of the crowd led us along the set path and we got to see famous old paintings and the Sistine Chapel while doing our best to not bump into other people stopping suddenly to take pictures. I now realize why the Vatican refuses to be swallowed by the Italian government: it is insanely rich. Absolutely everything is encrusted with gold, the vaults hold unknown treasures and the only word that can be used to describe the world’s smallest country is “ornate.”

As we left the Vatican we witnessed a relatively unknown but frequent occurrence, the running of the counterfeiters. Few things were more satisfying in Italy than watching the people who had been harassing you to buy the world’s most trashy and poorly made merchandise now running in packs yelling “Polizia!” to alert others. Sure, they are just trying to make a living, but I just wish they could try some new sale tactics than doubling their prices and then yelling until they’re hoarse about their goods being “HALF PRICE, JUST FOR YOU!”

The weather during our visit was unbelievable and actually quite hot during the day. It was equally unbelievable to watch Italians don heavy winter parkas and shake their heads at us when we only wore t-shirts. As we crisscrossed crowded streets we sought out gelato as actively as landmarks. Our goal was to average four cones of gelato a day (this was achieved easily).

The rest of our day involved us hitting up every major monument and getting a thorough feel for Rome. We saw the Castel Sant’Angelo, Fonta di Trevi, the Spanish Steps, Monument to Vittorio Emanuele II, the Coliseum (though we didn’t go inside until the next day) and the estate of Nero. The train home had a beautiful sunset and Salvatore picked us up to escort us to our regal meal prepared by Gulia. It was during this meal that I was introduced to blood oranges from Sicilia, which became my Italian obsession.

The morning following our epic meal, we took the train back to downtown Rome. This now routine commute would have been impossible without Salvatore ferrying us to and from the train station with passes in hand. We got off at our usual spot near St. Peter’s Basilica and headed downtown.

What we didn’t realize, and what soon became clear to us, was that this particular morning was the three year anniversary of Pope John Paul’s death. This event brought with it a mass lead by none other than Pope Benedict XVI. The Papi himself. So as we picked up our pace and flowed with the crowds we rounded the corner and stood in front of a massive screen with the Pope plopped down in his throne. There must have been around ten thousand people utilizing chairs and hording around for a glance. Our luck was unreal, but honestly the once in a lifetime experience was mostly gotten over in 20 minutes of gawking. Old guy. Big hat. Loads of religious significance. More importantly it was very hot and I am not a Roman Catholic. We snapped a bunch of pictures and took off.

Our second stop was Barcelona. Our original plans to stay one crazy night in Barcelona were changed when we realized we had thoroughly seen Lisbon and all of our group was gone for the last two days. Ain and I changed our flight and escaped Lisbon (generally) unscathed. As I mentioned earlier, we were able to stay with a friend who was studying in Barcelona for the semester and graciously took us around to see the sites. Thanks to our connection with these newly minted locals, we got to see parts of Barcelona that we would never have found otherwise. On our first full day we tried to go to the Sagrada Família, but we arrived too late and had to settle for being awed by walking around it (and taking too many pictures).

At night, we rounded up a group and hit the club. By club, I mean, the club in the area. A massive 15-euro-cover warehouse of party that was actually three separate clubs connected by pathways of loud and drunk people. Each inner venue had a new DJ and a new wave of jumbled dancers. We succeeded in all the requirements of a night in a European disco: lost each other within 2 minutes of walking into the club, danced until it hurt, waited in a massive line for a nasty bathroom and rounding it all off with a rowdy visit to a late night chip (read: fries) shop

The next day we had the classic budget travel meal. Find a big market, buy a bunch of fresh bread, meat and cheese and head to a park and enjoy. It was hard to single out foods at the Boqueria Market because so many things looked good. I normally hate olives, but thanks to the ones I had from the market, I am now an olive snob.

As if the meal from the day wasn’t enough, we had dinner at a hidden local place called La Champagneria. We were debriefed on the form of dining before diving into it, but nothing could have prepared us for the chaos. In a rarely enjoyable case of catch-22, the establishment requires all sandwiches (Chorizo and some meat I didn’t even think to order are the only thing available) be ordered with a bottle of Cava and vice versa. Want to eat? You have to drink. Want to drink? You have to eat. Oh, and it’s remarkably cheap. As the picture below illustrates, this place is overrun with people (here is a youtube video I found of it in action). We spent the first 20 minutes contorting ourselves to elbow out a nook to have our dinner. After much spillage and yelled orders, we enjoyed incredible sandwiches with a refreshing bottle of Cava. Wash. Rinse. Repeat.

At some point on our post-meal loafing we wandering into a massive train station. Luckily I had my camera with me and I was able to capture my surroundings. After our epic meal, we headed home to get some rest.

The next day we finally got to venture inside the Sagrada Família. While it was packed with people, it was highly organized and you could escape once you ascended the towers (a far cry from what I would experience in Rome). The Sagrada Família is an unbelievable undertaking and while I’m familiar with the building from a coffee table book from my childhood, my high expectations were way too low.

The amount of detail coupled with the size of the place is beyond words, so I’ll leave it with that. Ain had already been but was kind enough to revisit it and I’m surprised since it is constantly changing and continuously staggering. There was an entire exhibit on the types of stone used around the site and apparantly it has become very political over what exactly was envisioned by Gaudi.

The stairway down was windy and it was hard not to peek down every couple steps. Luckily, there was no railing, so pure fear drove most people against the wall. One man in particular was terrified of falling down the manhole sized hole and kept yelling out in Spanish and inching along. This provided our decent with much humor and allowed us time to pause and enjoy the graffiti that littered any spot not watched over by a guard.

One evening we enjoyed a cooking class taught by a peppery, spark plug of a woman who essentially just made dinner for a group of people while talking us through the steps. We also gained the knowledge of making a fine sangria as Ain and I hung on every phrase our teacher uttered. My personal favorite was her description of making a layered Hors d’œuvre as “you stack it like a Lego.” Another was, “Alcohol makes you drunk, but Sangria just makes you happy!” The massive portion of paella left us feeling cultured and stuffed to the gills.

Our final day involved walking down to the water and poking through flea markets for useless souvenirs. I was in the market for a watch that might catch my fancy, even though I have no real need for a watch, and Ain perused for an antique lighter. I found a massive watch that I learned was designed for someone losing their sight and I thankfully came to my senses and declined the hilariously large instrument. Either motivated through this momentary clarity of judgment or driven by a deeper irrational purchasing leanings, I moved on to something wholly useless. A sundial. Specifically, a portable sundial from 1850. It is a laughable pursuit now, but at the time it seemed the perfectly irregular accompaniment to the plethora of time keeping devices that are detailed and are useful when there is a lack of direct sunlight. No matter, I found what I wanted and it was better than others I had seen, so it was on to haggling. My pathetic attempts to barter with the man proved hopeless and I paid too much for something severely outdated. At least it’s a souvenir from Barcelona…made in London.

After our market experience, we picked up our luggage and made our way to the airport, which ended up being the most efficiently run airport I’ve used. Small details make all the difference. For example, the usual setup is after grabbing a bin you throw luggage, clothes and shoes in while people behind you mumble and quietly hate you. Here there was a wide open area of individual bin loading stations and then when you were ready you head through the terrorist detector. We had a short hop over the Mediterranean Sea and landed outside Rome in high spirits.

My travels begin with an overwhelming welcoming party after an extensive day of traveling. Without going into boring details of plane transfers and whatnot, I’ll just say that the most riveting moment involved me being forced to combine my traveling carry-on (packed tightly with a brick of vacuum sealed clothing) and my little camera bag. It was a completely unnecessary combination since neither security or the flight attendants cared. It was only one official leading up to the metal detector who required this and after walking a few feet past him I turned around and unpacked it, commenting dryly on the usefulness of his job. Unnecessary bureaucracy brings out the worst in me.

After getting into downtown Lisbon, slightly frazzled from travel, I wandered the streets until I tracked down the apartment Ain had kindly discovered. We had rented it out for a few days with some friends of his from Brown. I was the last to arrive and the festivities were in full effect, I was introduced to the group with freshly prepared local food. After a night of getting to know each other we headed off for our first day of exploring the city. Our apartment was centrally located off of the Marquês de Pombal circle. The female half of our group had to deal with a medical annoyance and so that left the four lads to scour the landscape for sunny cafes and ancient nooks. Our first stop was the Convento do Carmo which was a cheap escape from the noise and populated streets outside its ancient walls.

We were hoping not to see too much of the city without our other travelers, but honestly, just walking around the city gave us a great impression of Lisbon. We ended up relaxing in beautiful spots for an hour or so at a time before moving to our next rest stop. We went from enjoying the panoramic view of the city up the Santa Justa Lift to listening to music with a group of Angolans in a cafe next to the fountain at Martim Moniz Square. Essentially, we spoiled ourselves while the ladies had their own adventure in the nearby hospital.

After meeting up with everyone we continued strolling around, but this time we saw some of the actual sights of Lisbon. First we went to the water and saw one of the huge bridges that crisscrossing the river Tagus (Tejo in Portuguese). We moved up the hill and saw one of the oldest cathedrals in Portugal and finally ended up seeing the sunset from the Castle of São Jorge. I convinced everyone the sunset would be great and it actually was quite lackluster. It became cloudy and hid the sun, but the city was still beautiful thanks to the lighting of downtown.

After descending the hill, we made our way back up through winding roads. The endless stream of servers heckling you to enter their establishments is a practice that can make someone jaded about the dining experience in Europe quickly, but we ignored their pleas and settled on a place with an outdoor seating arrangement. Two things were wrong with this seemingly picturesque setup. Outside was on some stairs, that were frequented by flower sellers and other pedestrians. It also got very cold once the sun set. Despite these setbacks, we enjoyed a meal of lightly fried food, including the exotic “Black Jewfish.” We hustled home after our meal and hung out back at our apartment.

The next day we made the trek out to Belém Tower and strolled along the water taking in other monuments like the Padrão dos Descobrimentos (Discoveries Monument) and the Jerónimos Monastery.

After browsing the sites during the day, we checked out the nightlife in the popular Bairro Alto neighborhood. It is essentially an all-pedestrian neighborhood with hundreds of little bars and restaurants. We met a lot of locals, tourists and local students. The following day the ladies left us and the guys moved to a hostel a few blocks away. It was newly renovated and on the top floor of an office building converted into a hostel. We met other travelers and vowed to meet up with them later. During the day we took a 40 minute train to the beach town of Cascais, wandered the streets and tried the infamous Bacalhau for dinner. Bacalhau is dried and fried cod, but despite these horrifying properties it was actually quite tasty. The weather was perfect and we soaked up the sun accompanied by local beer.

I could end the story there, but some of the most eventful days were our last. Ain and I were left alone for the final few days and while we absolutely loved Lisbon, we were eager to continue to explore new places. On of his friends from Brown offered to put us up in her apartment when we came to Barcelona, so we decided to shift our plans and have more time in our next destination.

The main hitch in our plans was our lack of housing for the final night in Lisbon. We spoke with the hostel and while they originally said they couldn’t offer us a room, we were approached later in the day by a squadron of business people who gave us an offer we could not refuse. “You can stay in our offices for the night and we will provide cots.” Sounds pretty bad until you factor the uniqueness of spending the night in an office. It ended up being a huge law firm and they were unbelievably trusting with us. They gave us the only key to the building and left all sorts of private documents laying around. We didn’t browse, but we couldn’t ignore the check for half a million Euros sitting plainly on a desk. The next morning we had a memorable escape in the wee hours of the morning and rushed off to our flight dazed and giddy with excitement. Next stop, Barcelona.

Today I leave for my extended vacation known here as “Easter Break.” The funny thing about this vacation is that there are no lectures or tutorials or anything when we get back, just our final exams in May. So while the official schedule says break ends on April 11th, we actually have a lot more free time. Some changes will be inevitable, but I’m sure I will return with a dirty bag and a full camera. The main worry at this point is watching the American dollar die against the Euro. As if the exchange rate in the UK wasn’t bad enough.

Here is a rough outline of my plans for the next couple weeks:

March 23rd: Fly from Edinburgh to Lisbon, Portugal.

March 23rd until March 31st: Stay in Lisbon in this rented flat with 6 other people.

March 31st until April 1st: On the way to Rome, stop in Barcelona for one crazy evening and continue on the second leg of the flight the next afternoon.

April 1st until April 4th: Rome, Italy. I’ll be staying with a friend’s family, which I’m sure will be an incredible time.

April 4th: Travel to Florence, Italy. Stay for a few nights.

Approximately April 6th: Continue to Venice, Italy and stay for a few nights.

Approximately April 8th: Take a long train to Budapest, Hungary for another few nights.

Around April 11th: Train to Prague, Czech Republic.

April 14th: Early morning flight back to London and a beautiful 4 hour train ride back to Edinburgh.

Another reason I’m so excited for the final leg of my journey is that the train company allowed me to enter “other” as my title for my ticket. Instead of choosing Mister, I opted for “Supreme Allied Commander.” Much to my delight, this title was accepted and now my ticket should reflect the change. Whenever I visit the website, I am greeted by this sight:

Well, that’s all for now, but hopefully I’ll have time to access my email during the trip. Hope everyone else is having a fun spring break.

Last week was a fantastic break from my routine because my good friend Charlie visited from London. Frankly, I was nervous he wouldn’t have a good time because he lives in London and decided to exclusively visit me in Edinburgh for his spring break. My fears were quickly put to rest as he seemed ecstatic to be seeing a new place and was stunned at how cheap things were compared to London. During one of my free days we had a whirlwind tour of the city. It started with another climb of Arthur’s Seat which turned into a battle with the wind. The weather was clear and seemed warm so we ventured out without coats. This was a poor decision as the angles of the climb turn the path into a wind tunnel. At one point up the climb Charlie attempted a steep angle and got trapped while the wind tore at his shirt and muffled his yells. We retreated and took a new direction, finding the summit just as bad as we feared. I can confidently say this was the strongest winds I have ever experienced and we had to lie flat in the goose-poop infested grass just to escape.

After our taxing climb we headed back into town and strolled along the Royal Mile. Our pace allowed us to stop in the Holyrood Palace entrance, the Parliament security checkpoint and the Kirk of the Canongate cemetery holding the remains of Adam Smith. It took us a long time to actually find his grave but in the mean time we found some interesting landmarks including one dedicated to the “Society of Coach Drivers in Canongate.” For lunch we dined in a little pub that served as Charlie’s first experience with haggis. Despite the cautious expression in the picture, he actually enjoyed it.

After lunch we spent some time in the National Museum and joined some dancing children in watching the Millennium Clock ring in the hour. The rest of his visit proved less eventful but just as fun. We went out with my friends here and got to see other parts of the city. Unfortunately, Charlie had to leave early because that weekend I was going on a trip to Loch Lomond. We ran across town to catch his bus back to London and I packed and took a bus for the weekend later in the afternoon.

Loch Lomond is a beautiful place. However, it was not a beautiful weekend. It rained the entire time we were there and while we got to hike and try some Scottish activities, the fun was clearly dampened by the weather. I brought my camera but didn’t dare to bring it outside since downpours were so frequent. We did some hill-walking in an area called Drymen, which was somehow pronounced “German.” We were able to watch the historic routing of England by the Scottish rugby team in a local pub. I think us Americans were the most excited in this particular pub since it was the final game of the Six Nations rugby tournament and Scotland was dead last with no wins. On the last day we headed out to a somewhat cheesy activities fair. This included learning basic bag-piping, archery and the classic tossing of the caber. It was raining on us very hard for most of the time so spirits were quite low but it was a rare opportunity to throw a tree trunk (though the one we used was not as large as most photos found online). My attempt did not cause it to bounce and flip forwards as intended and I was advised to use “a wee bit more force next time.” After warming up on the bus we settled in for the trip back to Edinburgh, all in all it was a unique experience that I would recommend attempting in dryer conditions.

We arrived around 8 pm and followed vague compass-based directions to our beds for the evening. It took us over an hour and we got caught in a rain storm that briefly turned into hail. Finally, our destination was found, it was a hostel/hotel adjacent to a large football stadium for the Glasgow Warriors. We were right behind the field and had there been windows on that side of the building, it would have been a fantastic view. It’s also important to mention that there was a game going on while we looked for the hotel, so our wandering around was accompanied by occasional whoops and massive oooohs. According to their website, the game that night was a win, which would explain the happy crowds pouring out of the arena as we finally got into our rooms. We dried off and got ready to go out for the night, but spirits were low because we knew how far away we were from the city center and how rainy it still was. Eventually, we trekked out. After testing the waters in a club with 4 people on the dance floor, we found ourselves in the “Silk Club” that had a 3 pound cover despite the promotional card we were given promising free entry. This would set the tone for the evening. To get our money’s worth, or for some other reason that escaped me, we remained there until 4 am when it closed.

This is when things got interesting. As the crowds of scantily clad party goers spilled onto the streets, the calm night was pierced with drunken hollers. We quickly scampered to find a ride home, since the long walk seemed impossible. Our efforts to hail a cab failed. One cab driver slowed down to a drive-by speed and asked us where were going in the tone of voice of a someone afraid of getting caught. We explained where we were headed and he continued to coast by, finally after understanding (or not understanding) our destination, he sped off, sans customers. Maybe we didn’t understand the system in Glasgow, or maybe taxi drivers weren’t keen on driving to that part of town. We had no idea what to think. Our efforts to get a cab lead us zig-zagging through the downtown area and took the better part of an hour. During the course of our hopeless journey, we stopped at a chip-shop. I approached some inebriated individuals and asked the system to get a cab. “You’re American?! NO WAY,” was the response I got. They quickly formed a dance line and broke into song, “New York, New York!” When they finished, they patted me on the back, “Now you sing the Scottish national anthem!” Uh…I was trapped. “Sorry mates, I don’t know that tune.” Blasphemy! Instead of giving me a Glasgow Kiss that I had been expecting, they promptly broke into song again. This time, the owner of the store had enough of their singing and kicked all of us out.

Once on the street, they calmed down and I was able to get a phone number for a cab company. The representative I spoke to had neither heard of the street our hotel was on or even of the stadium for the Glasgow Warriors. “Are you going to somewhere remotely near Glasgow?” I responded, “We’ve walked there twice, how can a taxi not reach it?” I was on my own he assured me. Eventually we learned that all taxis go by a set location in downtown where party goers form a queue. We tracked down this queue and after discovering it numbered at least 200 people, we decided finally to walk. And so our long day ended with an even long walk home.

The next morning, we rose early considering our bedtime so we could check out of our rooms. We spent ages finding a place to have breakfast that wasn’t a Subway, gambling establishment or a shut down restaurant. We settled on a fancy Italian place that didn’t open until noon. After refueling, we checked out the large pedestrian avenue called Sauchiehall Street. It was at this point that I realized how much Glasgow reminded me of Santiago, Chile. Santiago is at least three times as large and has the benefit of beautiful mountains, but they both have a huge pedestrian street running through downtown that is chaotic and dirty. We stopped in a clothing store and I discovered that clothes here are actually dirt cheap. A friend of mine got a full suit for 25 pounds and I got some swim trunks that I needed for 2.50 and a lambs-wool sweater for 7 pounds. Another benifit of shopping here is that people are not all XXXLs like in the states. Multiple items in my size?!

Later in the day we stopped at a coffee shop to keep our energy up and meet a friend who goes to the Glasgow School of Art. It was here, in the most unlikely of settings, that the most interesting aspect of our travels occurred. A man who cleaned counters and emptied the trash approached us and asked us for a favor. He was wondering if we could edit a paper he was writing because his English wasn’t very good. Umm…sure, why not. He was elated and disappeared to get his essay. We weren’t really prepared for the 5 chapter tome he dropped on us, but we made our way through his draft with pens and coffee supplied by our new friend. It took us a long time to work through his paper because a lot of the tenses and words were confused or translated oddly, but we all felt productive helping him out. We later learned he was from the Ivory Coast and was getting his Master’s degree. It took us until closing time to finish, but he waited and thanked us dozens of times. It was tough to edit but overall an interesting and memorable experience.

From there, we were so tired we just went back to the bus terminal to catch a ride home. While this entry seems surprisingly negative, I had a good time and will definitely be returning to Glasgow. We never got to see any sites, the weather was terrible and our time was quite limited. Now I have returned to balmy Edinburgh and further work for my final 3 weeks of classes await.

I’m sorry I haven’t updated in a week but this entry is quite long and I had a lot of pictures to sort through. Last weekend I went to London in the first of many necessary trips to Europe’s most known destinations. It was a relatively simple trip and since I was traveling with 12 other people, there was some adventure guaranteed. We all met at the Edinburgh bus terminal to board our leisurely 10 hour drive to central London. On the way into the terminal, not 20 minutes into our travels, a fellow passenger dropped her luggage down the escalator into my back. Luckily, I had my big backpack (which proved to be the lightest packing job of the bunch) which cushioned the blow. We beat the bus to our gate and had time to enjoy a meal at the eateries provided by vending machines. Included in this lovely assortment of crisps (British word for potato chips) was the exotic “Roast Ox” flavor. I’ve been adventurous in my eating up to this point, but I must admit I passed on this opportunity, but I’m sure I’ll have the opportunity again.

The bus ride was a grueling experience, but that was to be expected with any overnight transportation. Instead of taking a bus directly to London as our tickets promised, we were routed to Glasgow (a hour going west away from London) and then boarded a different bus full of people impatient to leave and wary to give up the seat next to them. I ended up in the last row sitting straight up all night next to 4 other people. I took some herbal sleeping pills and started to drift off to sleep. No sooner had I begun to blink slower, I was awoken by David the bus attendant/czar (I only know his name because we were graced with his presence again on the return trip). We clambered off the bus to the truck stop at 2 am for no apparent reason and then re-boarded more groggy than before. The strategy apparently worked as everyone quieted down and got some sleep. I’d estimate about 3 hours for me and from everyone’s cheery faces when I arrived, I’d say I got lucky.

We arrived near Victoria Station at 7 am. Bleary eyed, grumpy and generally confused. After much deliberation as to how to avoid the £4 Underground fee, we eventually gave up. The walk to our hostel would have apparently taken 2 hours to walk and the longer we waited around the more Londoners came out of the woodwork for the morning rush hour. As we individually struggled to figure out the ticket machines, we were approached by a metro worker concerned at the mass of tourists hogging the machines. I assured him we were simply waiting on “that guy” to which he happy responded, “You have a guide? Fantastic!” Little did he know that we were more than inept at figuring out the system and I have no idea how we ended up at our hostel an hour later. We had booked an entire room to ourselves and avoided the usual awkward fanfare of sharing a room with strangers. The hostel itself was incredibly nice and located in Holland Park, just a short trip from central London.

The first day was a whirlwind of tourism and an attempt to sustain my sleep-deprived body. It started with a hearty (in the cholesterol sense) “Full English” breakfast that included a sausage, a few strips of bacon, baked beans, two eggs, mushrooms and three pre-buttered pieces of toast. It was exactly what I needed. Since it was barely 9 am, the four people I had broken off from the main group with decided to walk and wander towards the sights instead of head back underground. It ended up being a wise decision.

We crossed the street and wandered along a path into a park, completely oblivious to the fact we were entering the expansive Hyde Park. Our first stop was at a beautiful old building which was clearly identified as a palace. This turned out to be Kensington Palace, most know for being the former residence of Princess Diana. We decided against a tour and followed the Princess Diana Memorial Walk, past the Princess Diana Memorial Playground and ended up at the Princess Diana Memorial Fountain. Undeterred by the sheer amount of history, statues and memorials, we trekked onward through the park. I think it’s safe to say that London has the largest area of downtown real estate dedicated to park lands of any major city I’ve visited, according to it’s website, the eight “Royal Parks” of London take up about 5,000 acres. The next path we followed had a huge horse path with a biking and running path next to it. It’s only after looking it up that I realize that was another historic location called, the Rotten Row.

After continuing to wander down any path that looked appealing, we ended up (unbeknownst to us) in the park next to Buckingham Palace.

As we strolled along, we noticed people running towards a swelling crowd. We had no idea what was going on and instinctively picked up our pace. As we peered over a little wall, we realized we had stumbled upon the changing of the guard at Buckingham Palace. A huge crowd was gathered and we scampered to find a vantage point.

In the flurry of excitement and camera phones held aloft, we ran into the larger contingent of our traveling group. After some hurried group photos we tried to stay together and escape unscathed as the Bobbies did their best to contain the bulk of the day’s tourists. I was jostled to one side of the road as others were held back to let the Blues and Royals through. We got to see some of the ceremony, though as the excitement died down we quickly made our way out of the area to further avoid the crowds. We continued down a long boulevard to Trafalgar Square to meet some friends studying in London. We waited to meet them on the steps of the National Gallery and enjoyed the hordes of pigeons scrambling for crumbs. Our next stop was lunch, which for most was a famous Fish and Chips shop, but as I’ve already enjoyed (read: hated) the experience of fried cod with “chips,” I opted for a sandwich stop across the street.

Our next stop was the River Thames and onward to Parliament. There isn’t much to say about the journey itself, so I think pictures can tell the story better. Parliament is big. The London Eye looks like a big bicycle wheel. There was a memorial to the Battle of Britain that I loved. It is generally a pretty posh area. “Regal” also seems to be a fitting word.

Following our trip to the major sites, we headed back to the National Gallery and got to see a number of famous paintings. Among the array of Monet, Rembrandt and co., I found the most interesting image to be “The Execution of Lady Jane Grey” by Paul Delaroche from 1883 because it was so painstakingly detailed and the expressions were striking. We tired quickly and one of my friends even fell asleep on a bench in the gallery. This was a sign that our day was coming to a close. That night we tried some pubs, but generally just hit the hay early.

The next day we woke up to catch the free breakfast at our hostel and dashed off to the big market someone had told us about. I hadn’t understood that this was the market in London. We walked through the posh Chelsea and Notting Hill neighborhoods to get to our destination, the Portobello Road. The Saturday Market is a tradition going back hundreds of years and since the 1960s, it has become a hub for antiques. In addition to it’s long stretches of ancient prints or metal working stalls, there are dozens of farmers selling their produce. All the while, hundreds of people clambered for the choicest grub or paraded up and down the avenue in an attempt to socialize. Some even set up stations for crepes or paella which drench the area in alluring smells.

After spending the morning at the market, we took a double decker bus back to the center of town. One interesting point about public transportation in London is that people bring their dogs on board and often play music from cell phones or other devices through little stereos. The result is a cacophony of terrible treble-filled sound whenever you board a bus. We decided to check out the Tower of London and the Tower Bridge so we meet up with the larger group of friends around dinnertime.

The various exhibits inside the Tower of London included an extensive collection of crown jewels and bizarre weapons. The collection included rarities like the 16th century “Holy Water Sprinkler” and a studded shield with a hidden space for a gun barrel. It also featured the original suit of armor of Henry VIII, which to say the least, was a crowd pleaser. From among the hushed chuckles, one man exclaimed, “Whoa, no wonder he had so many wives!” This prompted a swift slap and embarrassed tug from his wife and explosive laughter from his kids.

We spent most of our day traveling to and slowly exploring the Tower of London and surrounding areas, so by the time we got into the exhibit of the weaponry, it was almost closing time. After shuffling out of the castle, if you can call it that, we headed back to our hostel and got a fancy Thai dinner. We went out to a club for the afterwards and ended up staying out until almost 5 am. I won’t say much about the evening since this is intended for family and friends, but let me just say this: the cover was 10 pounds, there were no lights on the dance floor (picture a basement with a lot of sweaty people during a blackout), the music was provided by the 49th best techno DJ in the world (translation: the worst DJ I’ve ever witnessed) and I was frantically grabbed by a couple on the dance floor who asked me, “Do you have any drugs?!” After escaping the club we tracked down a way to get home on the bus and spent the next hour waiting and sitting on crowded buses. The next morning we got up early so we could check out, clearly, our final day would not be as energetic as our first two.

The next day we went to the huge British Museum and explored a fraction of the exhibits before people got bored. One surprising thing about the museum is that you could take pictures, even with a flash. I thought this actually detracted from the experience because everyone was scurrying around to get photos of everything instead of following the usual strolling museum pace. But of course, I’m guilty of taking a few photos myself.

After the museum we tracked down lunch at a small Chinese place and took the opportunity to recuperate our dwindling stores of energy. Our next objective was to meet up with the group again at the Tate Modern where our friends had been reveling in the introspective urinals and structural building faults labeled as art which can only be successfully delivered by a modern art museum. In one exhibit a huge theater was dedicated to giving the patron the experience of being rolled down a New York City street inside of a trash can, complete with sound and spinning visuals. Needless to say, we didn’t last long here. We crossed the Millennium Bridge, found a cheap place to eat, tracked down the bus terminal and settled in for an overnight bus trip back to Edinburgh. During that trip, most of you were watching the Superbowl, but on that historic evening we were nodding off to sleep after a draining but eventful weekend.